by Milk, Harvey
The closing weeks of the campaign had been filled with disappointments as the Machine Milk vilified proved every bit as influential as he depicted it. The press that egged him on did not endorse him, and kindred spirits such as Fr. Eugene Boyle ultimately endorsed his opponent Art Agnos. And then there was that overwhelming direct mail strategy the Agnos campaign launched at the end. The contrast between Milk and the Machine remains stark here, even if perhaps a bit less vibrant than it had been while the prospects on the campaign trail seemed brighter. Yet there is still a twinkle in Milk’s description of his political hero Harry Truman, commemorative and comparative, conveying a sense that the fight is worthwhile because the people he hoped to represent mattered so much. Milk garnered 13,400 votes, fewer than he had received in 1975, fewer than he had predicted when plotting the maverick challenge to the Machine, and 3,600 shy of Agnos’ total. And yet the numbers as depicted on his map at Castro Camera offered promise despite his third loss in as many campaigns. As the Zenger’s article appeared that November, voters finally approved district elections for 1977. Harvey might be discouraged and in debt, but politically speaking, he was back in business.
. . .
There is a basic difference in my concept of what a member of the State Assembly should be, versus that which my opponent holds. In my opponent’s campaign material, he stresses that he will be a “troubleshooter” for the people, basing this concept on his experience as a wellpaid aide to a member of the Assembly from another district.
My concept is different. I think a legislator should be involved in the root causes of the problems that plague us. He should be involved with enacting legislation to correct these problems, thus doing away with the need for “troubleshooters” in the first place.
If we need “troubleshooters,” at the present, it’s because so many of our legislators seem to have no idea or plans for solving our problems. In fact, they seem to have given up trying to solve the problems themselves and have merely attended to the symptoms substituting temporary “programs” for real solutions. They avoid the hard, politically unpopular, long-term decisions and rely more and more on the short-term answers provided by their “troubleshooters.” It’s like putting Band-Aids on a cancer when the logical, though difficult, solution might be surgery.
And so our unsolved problems breed more and greater problems, which in turn breed the need for more “troubleshooters.” The bureaucracy continues to do what it does best—create more and more bureaucrats—and we end up with government by “troubleshooting.” My opponent even lists as his greatest qualification those of a “troubleshooter"!
I think my opponent lowers the position and importance of a legislator when he conceives of the post as being that of a glorified “trouble-shooter.” There is a good reason for this. He has spent the last ten years of his life working for the government—meaning you—at an excellent salary. He has been sheltered in the arms of the System. While he is undoubtedly aware (at least in the abstract sense) of poverty, the disruption caused by the loss of a job, and the crippling financial blows that steadily mounting taxes can cause a homeowner, for him it’s been something of a spectator sport. He’s been an observer, not a participant and has never really experienced the daily fight for survival that most of us have to face. I’m not being accusatory here—in some respects, I may be envious. I’m a small businessman and I’m well aware of the uncertainties of the economy, exactly what the “inflationary spiral” means when I’m forced to raise prices to my customers, and how taxes can eat into your earnings.
HARRY S. TRUMAN
Like every politician, I have my own model. My personal hero in government—it’s no secret!—is Harry Truman. He was a great President, and I think that one of the reasons why is that he operated a small business prior to going into politics.
Unlike many Presidents, he wasn’t born into great wealth. He had to scratch for every dime he made. He never developed contempt for the common man, perhaps because he had personally waited on so many of them in his Kansas City clothing store. Once in public office, he never patronized his constituents, perhaps because he never forgot the time when he had to file bankruptcy.
The people who supported Truman were those who had to sweat for their daily bread, many who may not have been as articulate as others with their tongues, but were loving in their hearts, those who instinctively recognized that no person is born to greatness, but many people rise to it.
Truman was beloved by the people because he was one of them—and they knew it. He was not a devious President and disconcerted many of his fellow politicians by saying what he thought, not by parroting what he knew would be popular. When he retired, he spent his days in Independence giving personal tours of the Truman Library and lecturing to school kids on representative government.
In his final days, Harry Truman always considered himself a representative of the people.
I think that’s important. The government doesn’t belong to the lawyers. It doesn’t belong to the professional politicians, and it doesn’t belong to the bureaucrats who, understandably enough, have become wedded to the patterns of thinking that prevail within bureaucracy itself.
The government belongs to the people. And new ideas, as they usually do in business itself, will have to come from the outside—from the people. That’s why we have elections as often as we do: to get new ideas and new input from the people.
I can understand my opponent’s approach to government and sympathize with it. He wants to solve the day-to-day crisis—it’s the only approach he knows. He’s a bureaucrat and to be honest, we need some bureaucrats. But we aren’t going to solve our problems by electing to public office the aides of those who have already wrestled with those same problems for the past two decades—and lost two falls out of three. We need new input, we need new ideas.
Unfortunately, it hardly seems reasonable to assume that a man who has worked within the bureaucracy for the last ten years is going to have any.
22
“Uncertainty of Carter or the Certainty of Ford”
Column, Bay Area Reporter, September 2, 1976
This was not what you would call an ideal slate of presidential candidates for the GLBTQ community—a conservative Republican or a Democrat who identified as a born-again Southern Baptist. Jimmy Carter, however, had surprised and confounded many on the campaign trail with his unexpected statements on sexuality. Best remembered is the eye-popping Playboy interview in which Carter admitted that he had “committed adultery in my heart many times.” Perhaps not recalled by many is that Carter on several occasions also publicly expressed his opposition to homophobic discrimination. In the San Francisco press conference to which Milk refers in this “Milk Forum” column, Carter pledged to support New York Congresswoman Bella Abzug’s bill that would add “affectional or sexual preference” to the 1964 Civil Rights Act, stating that “I will certainly sign it, because I don’t think it’s right to single out homosexuals for special abuse or special harassment.” However, his perspective on gay rights was ambivalent to say the least, and despite Milk’s clever rhetorical turn here on the notion of “uncertainty,” it would have been foolhardy to trust Carter’s commitment. After all, in that same Playboy interview, Carter conceded, “The issue of homosexuality always makes me nervous. It’s obviously one of the major issues in San Francisco. I don’t have any, you know, personal knowledge about homosexuality and I guess being a Baptist, that would contribute to my sense of being uneasy. . . . It’s political, it’s moral, and it’s strange territory for me . . . to inject it into a public discussion on politics and how it conflicts with morality is a new experience for me. I’ve thought about it a lot, but I don’t see how to handle it differently from the way I look on other sexual acts outside marriage.” Carter’s ambivalence would continue into his presidency, with those campaign pledges unconsummated.
Nevertheless, Milk’s comparative analysis had much to be said for it. President Ford’s official position was th
at he had no position on the issue of gay rights. And his actions spoke even more loudly than his silence. On September 22, in San Francisco, Ford narrowly escaped Sara Jane Moore’s assassination attempt because of bystander Oliver “Bill” Sipple’s selfless effort. Sipple had saved the president’s life. Sipple was also gay. That fact should not have mattered to the president, but it did. The fact that Sipple was closeted should have mattered to Milk, but politics mattered more. Milk leaked Sipple’s sexuality to the press, and the story of the gay veteran who thwarted Ford’s murder made national headlines, and traumatized Sipple and his family. No doubt that trauma was exacerbated by the president’s homophobic ingratitude, which, as Milk dramatized, was more egregious by contrast to his magnanimity for those less deserving of his public gesture. Ford’s note of thanks that ultimately arrived only after browbeating from the press must have seemed quite hollow to the shaken Sipple. Unaware that Milk had outed him, Sipple gave a copy to the man he had worked to elect in 1975, signed “To Harvey, a good friend.”
Most important in this column is Milk’s enacted vision of gay power by interpellating and empowering GLBTQ people as agents of change, as a powerful political collective of bloc voters, who could and should cast votes based on the very particular measure of a candidate’s commitment to gay rights. The promise of gay power resides in its capacity to mediate and transform the political difference between certainty and uncertainty.
. . .
Facing the reality of it all, either Carter or Ford will be our next president. Some people, especially those who are content with the “way things are,” will opt for Ford because they know where he is and can “live” with him. They argue that they don’t know where Carter is, and that uncertainty bothers them. Thus, while they are not happy with Ford, they—like many people—will stay with the status quo. Think about Columbus, Marco Polo, George Washington, etc., staying with the “certain” things of life!
Given the fact that this is a problem with many people, let us look at the certainty of Ford and the uncertainty of Carter on one important issue: Gay people’s rights. Where do these two people stand in regard to the rights of 5%–10% of the nation’s population? Yours and mine.
First let’s look at the “uncertainty” of Jimmy Carter. He has stated—not in front of gay audiences to gay press, but right in front of the national press—more than once that he regards as an equal sin—and lumps them together—fornication and adultery! He does not regard a person’s being gay any more or less of a sin as—well, I guess, what 90% of the people of the nation do. He then further states that he believes that the government has absolutely no business whatsoever interfering with a person’s right to work or live, no matter what their sexual orientation is. He continues with the statement that he would sign Abzug’s bill for gay equal rights. In other words, he stands for gay rights laws being passed even though he regards homosexuality as a sin alongside of fornication and adultery. That is more than the California State Assembly or State Senate feels. They never got a gay rights bill out of committee.
Can you “live with” a president that regards you as a sinner but feels that the government has no business interfering with your personal life and will sign into law that point?
On the other hand, we have the “certainty” of President Ford. Let’s look at where he stands on that same issue.
During his term as President, Ford was close to being killed twice. Once he was driving in New England and his car was hit by another car driven by a young person. The next day the president called the young driver and personally talked to him to tell him that while that car came close to killing him (Ford), he (the driver) should not worry, etc. Great! Humanitarian at the least. Concerned about another human even though it was one who almost killed him! What a great leader! However, not too long before that incident, Ford was almost killed by a woman here in San Francisco. The police and Secret Service all agree that the only thing that saved the President’s life was the action of a person who grabbed the gun and forced the bullet to miss its target. In other words, that person, according to all our experts, by his action saved the life of the President.
And what did our President do about that? After all, if he will call and talk person-to-person to a young man who almost killed him in an accident, you would think that he might even invite the person who saved his life to the White House. Did that person get an invitation to the White House? No. Did that person get a phone call from the President? No. Did that person get a personal letter immediately thanking him? No. Oh, about a week or two later and with much hullabaloo from the press, he did get a letter from the President—similar to letters sent to some of the police who later assisted the hero. Short and almost form letters.
We hear a lot about words vs. actions. I think that the actions that Ford took in these two cases say a lot about the man. Why would he talk personally to someone who almost killed him and almost ignore someone who saved his life? One was gay; one was not. Can you guess which one was the gay person?
Yes, the “certainty” of Ford is that he couldn’t even get the (whatever the word is) up to thank a person who saved his life—a person who was gay. Ford might stand for the rights of people—but somehow I’m not “certain” that that does not include gay people.
The point? Well, the worst thing that Nixon did to gay people was his appointments to the Supreme Court. For a long time I have been saying that the most important decisions that governors and presidents make, excepting war, are who they put on the courts. These judges affect our day-to-day life more than anything else that they do; and because the appointees stay on long after the executives leave, the effect lasts and lasts. Look at what Nixon’s Supreme Court did in regard to gay rights. They would not even hear the case that was brought up this year! And Ford is more conservative than Nixon.
Ford wanted to impeach Earl Warren! Ford started the fight and led the fight to impeach the best friend we had on the court! What kind of people do you think Ford will appoint to the court? Friends of gay rights? Ford, who pardoned Nixon and lets Connally be his mouthpiece, is no friend of gay rights. (Interestingly, Ford loved Connally’s approach to the campaign this past week. Connally is the person who was acquitted in his case of being accused of taking illegal money; but the person who was accused of giving the money was convicted for it! You figure that one out!) Yes, Ford loves Connally. Yes, Ford pardoned Nixon. Yes, Ford wanted to impeach Earl Warren. Yes, Ford would not call the homosexual who saved his life but called the heterosexual who almost took his life. That’s the “certainty” of Ford.
For me, I’ll take the “uncertainty” of the man who will sign Abzug’s gay rights bill. For me, I’ll take the “uncertainty” of the man who regards homosexuality as much of a sin as fornication and adultery. For me, I’ll take the “uncertainty” of the man who believes that the government has no business in a person’s bedroom.
The other issues? We can go into them at another time—however, what good is a great economy of a great nation at a great peace if you are in jail or can’t get a job because you are gay?
23
“A Nation Finally Talks About . . . It”
Column, Bay Area Reporter, June 9, 1977
There is a concept in social movement theory called “moral shock,” an affective, cognitive, and moral surge of adrenaline born of a particularly jolting catalytic event or over-the-threshold moment, the tumult occasioned by the proverbial last straw of accumulated or projected injustice—and the framings and performances that rhetorically configure it. Moral shock, despite being an existential disruption, can culminate in a kind of clarity of vision, vibrantly altered perspective, awakening of agency (what some still call empowerment), and propulsion toward activist modalities. To appropriate the words of an evangelical such as Anita Bryant, moral shock might be called a queer awakening or conversion experience. This exuberant “Milk Forum” column is the voicing of moral shock and its after trembling, the stampede footfalls of movement in the wak
e of a remarkable catalytic moment.
The extraordinary highs and lows of 1977 surely qualify it as among the most consequential years in GLBTQ history to date, one that began with the wide-eyed vista of a promised land of gay rights geography, mapped by anti-discrimination ordinances in Florida, Minnesota, Kansas, Illinois, Colorado, and Oregon, and those 19 states now free of criminalized sexuality. Then came Anita Bryant, nescient siren thoroughly embraced as the bigot’s darling and mouthpiece, fomenting homophobic discourse, legislation, and violence. How easily one might have despaired as that reversal came to pass with the repeal vote on Orange Tuesday, with the impossible vindication of that devastating canard, “Save Our Children.” But Harvey Milk didn’t despair or retreat; he saw in Orange Tuesday a moral shock that might just galvanize a national GLBTQ movement in proportion unachieved by the heroic efforts of earlier activists. And, significantly, Milk also knew that circumstance alone was not enough, that he had to frame these vicious happenings, the visceral grief and outrage that he had witnessed in those mass marches through San Francisco, and Anita Bryant herself, as a boon that might be transformative if mobilized for GLBTQ justice and equality.